


With So Much of the Heart

by HathorAroha



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 04:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HathorAroha/pseuds/HathorAroha
Summary: Adam asks how Mrs Potts first knew she was in love with her husband so long ago. (Takes place during the curse.)





	With So Much of the Heart

_“I love you with so much of my heart, there is none left to protest.” Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing_

* * *

 

It was another quiet little evening in the castle for everyone–Chip was off trailing after Lumiere, Belle was talking with Plumette as they cleaned up the ballroom, and Mrs Potts trundled down one of the hallways lost in her thoughts when the Beast stopped her in her tracks.

“Good evening, Master,” Mrs Potts smiled up at him from the trolley, “Quiet evening in?”

The Beast shrugged, “I suppose it is, Mrs Potts. Belle and Plumette seem to have become very close friends.”

“They have, haven’t they?” agreed the housekeeper-turned-teapot, “As have you and Belle.”

“We have?”

“Come now, Ad–Master, we can all see it, you’ve become such close friends! It is a wonderful thing to see you and her together.”

The Beast sighed, and Mrs Potts, having an inkling what was coming next, stopped him.

“I know she cares about you a great deal more than you believe she does–and you care about her too.”

The Beast looked back down the hallway, as though waiting for someone–perhaps Belle–to come around that corner, a book under her arm. Mrs Potts rolled up next to him.

“You share a good deal in common with each other, Master,” she said, “More than you believe you do.”

Another short silence, before the Beast slowly turned his head to look down at her, questions in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again, shaking his head.

“I cannot ask you that,” he muttered.

“Ask me what? Is it about Belle?”

“A little,” he offered up, pulling at the cuff of one of his sleeves, “It’s–how did you know?”

“Know what?”

He took a deep breath, the air of someone steeling themselves to ask a question. When he spoke again, his voice was so quiet Mrs Potts nearly missed his words.

“When you fell in love with…” he shook his head again, “I’m sorry, it’s probably too personal a question–”

“No, no, it’s fine, Master,” Mrs Potts assured hastily, “I’m glad you asked at all.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not. You wanted to know how I knew when Mr Potts and I were in love?”

“…in so many words.”

Mrs Potts beamed, as much as she could in her teapot form, and if she had a heart, she knew it would be soaring.

“Ask away, dear,” she encouraged.

“Was–was there a moment when you just knew?” he asked, and winced, “Please don’t tell me it was love at first sight.”

Mrs Potts couldn’t help a chuckle. “Believe me, Mr Potts and I never believed in that nonsense.”

“Really?”

“Neither of us liked Romeo and Juliet in the least.”

A sideways grin escaped from his lips. “Tell that to Belle.”

Another laugh from the housekeeper. “I take it she loves it?”

“You don’t know the half of it, Mrs Potts.” Adam rolled his eyes, “Argued with me the other day on how romantic the ending was.”

“Not romantic in the least,” Mrs Potts said, without skipping a beat. Adam stared over at her. “Well, it isn’t. Wouldn’t it have been better for the survivor to learn to move on without the other?”

A reflective pause. “I suppose you’re right.”

“If it had ended with one learning to move on without the other, I might have liked it a tadge better. I still would not have put up with the love at first sight nonsense.”

A short silence passed, during which they turned around a quiet corner as they meandered through the castle.

“So…how had you known, Mrs Potts?”

“It just came to me one day, I suppose, after a long time of friendship and growing closer. But believe me, friendship and commonality in interests came first. I don’t know how long we were in love when we knew we were in love. Does that make sense?”

“I–maybe? How would I know when Belle’s–or my–heart is so full that there is none left to protest against love?”

“Don’t worry, Master, you’ll understand one day. Believe me, you’ll know.”

“But how?”

“Ask ten different people in this castle, you’ll find ten different answers,” she said, “But you just know. Frustrating answer, I understand. I’ve had the same said to me by my own mother, and it was just as exasperating. Hindsight, however, has a funny way of always being crystal clear.”

“How?”

Mrs Potts took a moment or two to think on her answer, remembering back all those years ago when she and Jean were still so young in their twenties.

“We shared a common love for tea–to be expected, of course, he is half-English, half French–between us, we had an admirable collection of teapots, and he tried–I emphasise tried–to show me how to make very simple pottery. I’m afraid I was no good at it.”

“I’m sure you were fine.”

“And I–and don’t tell a soul this–showed him my excellent ability to forge signatures.”

“You–you what?”

Mrs Potts couldn’t help a chuckle at seeing the shock in Adam’s face.

“My uncle had shown me how, much to my mother’s horror. It’s alright, Master, I only use it for good.”

A stunned moment passed, Adam raising a hand to scratch at the back of his neck, his face still a picture of stunned surprise.

“And we complement each other in ways that make us stronger together,” Mrs Potts continued, as casual as one may after revealing they can forge signatures, “He gets scared easily, especially around places rumoured to be haunted. I’m the one that enters said haunted house with a stick, ready to battle any ghost.”

“That sounds like something Belle would do,” Adam commented.

“Yes, well, unlike her, I’m–nor is my husband–not what you’d call an avid bookworm. We have but a few books between us. Chip seems to share the same trait too.”

“Chip appears to like it when Belle reads to him though.”

“He does, very much, Master.”

A moment of silence passed, Mrs Potts thinking of more to say of her early years when she’d first known Jean.

“You know, I remember once when I was really sick–I believe it was a fever, and a very high one at that–Mr Potts had come to visit me nearly every day.”

“Really? Why? Was he not worried he’d fall sick?”

“Probably, but he cared much more that I was sick, and chose of his own free will to visit me, keep me company, cheer me up–and I’m the worst to be around when I’m under the weather–when he didn’t have to. And if he fell sick, I did the same too.”

“And that’s how you knew you were in love?”

“That’s how I knew he cared about me, as a friend would.”

“And what of love?”

“Do you know, I think I knew it fully when he’d spoken of moving to a small village in France.”

A slow smile from Adam. “Villeneuve, I take it?”

“The very same. But you know what he’d said?”

“What?”

“He would only move if I would come with him too,” a little chuckle, “I came right out and said to him, ‘you’re proposing to me.’ I believe I’d caught him off-guard. He hadn’t expected me to make that connection so quickly.”

“You…you said–”

“Of course I said yes. And–” here, Mrs Potts smiled, closing her eyes at the memory of the past, “The rest, as they say, is history.” Opening her eyes again, she met Adam’s eyes. “You’ll find such love yourself, I promise. I have all the faith in the world in you, Master. Things will turn out alright in the end, you’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr on Valentine's Day, but just hadn't gotten around to posting on AO3 until now.


End file.
